Indifferent

A Halloween one-shot written for creative writing.

Heart wasn't in it, as such, it's probably shit.

Comment?

This was odd, she decided as she sank cautiously into the soft leather couch, considerately placed in the darkest, most abandoned corner of the living room. Other than the little sanction, she was surrounded by closely packed bodies of people who most likely each wanted her dead. Just a little odd that she decided to be surrounded by such people, no? Absolutely surrounded, too. No visible exits, and that was to her keen eye. To someone less observant, it probably seemed like scaling a brick wall. Protected or not, she was in hunter territory. Sure, her darling great nephew had promised no one would hurt her as long as she showed no threat to anyone’s safety, but, to these irrational hunters, killers, simply her fangs bared in a simple smile, even if it was damnably sincere, would mean she’d be turned into a pile of decrepit dust before she could whisper the words ‘holy water’ in horror. She sighed irritably, brushing dyed red bangs from her face, careful not to also remove the hood that helped hid the reality that her teeth were all, indeed, real. Why had she given into Michael’s puppy dog eyes again? He was a twenty-some year old, for God’s sake! Not to mention the son of some son of her brother’s. She really had to sit done some day and figure out her current family tree. Wonderful. Pressure was applied to the space beside her, and she closed her eyes. No malice was meant from him, she could feel it. Just curiousness, and a little edge of flirtatiousness. Not even a hint of alcohol clung to his figure, which was more than she could say of some of Michael’s other guests. A completely sober hunter was going up to her without any apprehension? No fear, even? It seemed more likely that he didn’t know, and how any hunter could not know was beyond her. Though her costume could possibly throw him for a loop, she supposed. A vampire actually dressing up like a vampire to go into the middle of a hunter’s party? Weren’t they supposed to be intelligent? Apparently not, considering the situation she was in. Then she realized he was speaking to her, through a cheap plastic helm. Apparently, he was dressed to be a knight, or something close to it, anyway. “-doing in such a secluded corner, milady?” Luckily, she had only missed a little bit of his muffled speech, and he apparently realized how much it affected his speech, lifting up the mouth piece. A smile grew on his lips as he repeated his question, a bit louder, as if thinking the loud cheers and speech of his peers impeded on her hearing. “I’m not much of a party person.” She shrugged, hoping it seemed rather normal. “Here as a personal favor to the host.” She offered in half-explanation. Awkward questions would otherwise arise, she reasoned. She was aware of just how out of use her voice had fallen to, low and raspy, and he asked her to repeat in turn, noticing how she spoke more to the ground and into her hood than towards him. She turned to face him and reiterated the information. He nodded slowly, as if in thought, before standing, and holding out his hand. ‘Well, we can always go outside, on the balcony. This crowd’s way too bubbly for me, too.” Another smile, brighter. Who was saying who was bubbly? Who are you to treat me as a friend? She wanted to ask him, eyes narrowing in annoyed concentration, but again, awkward questions. She was at a party, so it would be expected of her to be friendly to some many strangers that she really hoped she would never meet again. That’d get messy very quickly. So instead, heaving a great mental sigh, she flashed him what was hopefully a natural, brilliant smile, taking his hand with her gloved one. Icy flesh would just alert them all. “Of course, that sounds wonderful. Thank you much, kind sir knight.” She stood with all the grace of the ethereal being she was, and allowed him to lead her away through the crowd, and out into the fresh night air that melted away all of the uncomfortable heat that clung to her inside. People, hunters, mostly in groups of two, spaced out along the penthouse’s balcony, murmuring softly between themselves, laughing slightly. They took an empty space between two such groups, distanced enough from both that she was comfortable. “That’s a great costume, by the way, milady. Especially the teeth. They look real!” The knight complimented her easily, leaning backwards against the rail, watching her. One of the pairs of hunters glanced over, saw who he was speaking to, and snorted softly. She caught the sound –he didn’t. “Thank you…” She muttered, leaning slightly over the railing, looking down at shimmering night lights. It would be a beautiful sight if she didn’t know all too well that smog put forth from the mortals caused such a phenomenon. “Can I ask your name?” He asked suddenly after both had fallen silent for a few moments. “Esme.” She replied, still with that hollow voice that was nearly stolen away with the wind. “Esmeralda, preferably.” She corrected herself. How many years had gone by since she had allowed someone to call her Esme? A while, she knew that much. “And yours, sir knight?” “Darren Hawking, at your service.” He beamed while bowing. “Darren… nice to meet you.” She closed her eyes, listening to his breath. It was a good thing she had fed prior to the party. She could hear the crimson pounding healthily through his body. “Nice to meet you too, Esmeralda.” He countered. Was it possible for him to sound anything less than enthused? She just remained quiet. If he wanted to speak with her, he would have to make the effort, not her. She didn’t care for idle conversation, but she would participate if forced to. “So… how long have you been a part?” He asked finally, sounding curious. “I’m knew, actually. Michael just barely told me I’m ready and then Halloween rolled around, and he said I was invited. I got off lucky.” He gushed out finally. It was clear how proud he was about becoming a killer. She shrugged. As twisted as it would probably seem to mere mortals, lying was against her ethics. “Wanna dance?” He never ceased to surprise her, jumping from topic to topic as if none of them mattered. Another shrug, and he grabbed her hands, pulling her into a relatively slow step that matched the pace of the song inside. A shrug didn’t really mean consent in her eyes, but she supposed it didn’t really matter. As soon as the clocks inside struck midnight, the end of Halloween night, she had no further obligation to her great-nephew, and she would be free to leave. Glancing inside, she saw a stereo display the time, stating it was a quarter till twelve. Soon… Falling into a slumber of steps, completely indifferent to any attempts at conversation, she hardly noticed time slip deftly from her and this Darren, until suddenly, she realized they’d been dancing silently for nearly an hour, the time now saying it was much closer to one than twelve. “Shit…” She muttered, pulling away from him quickly, just as he had been leaning in for some chaste kiss or other. Yeah, like she was kissing a metalhead hunter. “What’s wrong, Esme?” Without meaning to, he called her by the nickname she had long since forbade. “This vampire was due to be a pumpkin an hour ago.” She gave a smirk, and licked one of her canines. “And they aren’t some costume teeth.” She turned, and reentered the penthouse through the French doors, bidding Michael adieu, and leaving for her own home before there was a chance of the sun rising. She left one very confused, and very annoyed vampire hunter behind, though whether he was upset at losing out on a kiss, or losing out on the head of a vampire, it wasn’t really clear.